Mood Swing- Pt 1

Mood Swing

By Sue

RATING: PG, Friendship/Romance?
SPOILERS: "The Xindi"
ARCHIVE: Yes.
E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise is the property of Paramount. No profit is being made.
SUMMARY: Missing scene for 'The Xindi,' covering the moments after the first administering of Vulcan neuropressure.

Notes: This could turn into an on-going string of vignettes, depending on the tenor of 'Enterprise.'

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Part One

It was time, and as though an inner voice prompted him, he opened his eyes. He opened them slowly. That same stirring within him suggested they needed time to adjust. Gradually, the half-lit surroundings of the Vulcan's cabin took on sharper focus and his sensation of floating gradually lessened. He was coming to rest.

He released a breath he had been holding, but for how long? Since T'Pol had begun working on him, applying just the right amount of pressure to strategic points which she seemed to know more about than he? He did not know, nor did it seem to matter now, or did it?

How strange, he considered...somehow he felt a good deal better than when he entered her quarters. He felt calmer, more in control of his thoughts, more at peace with himself. What had she done to him? There was no post-drug induced fatigue that sometimes accompanied a hypospray dosage. On the contrary, he felt as though he could run a four-minute mile, give or take seconds to spare.

He was lucid, focused and revitalized. Weeks had passed; weeks that had left him drained and restless. Feeling like that felt as if it had happened long ago, now. He wanted to ask, but he hesitated. What had she done? He figured that if he tried asking, it would come out wrong, and he'd offend her somehow. He never had to work at that, offending her came a little too naturally. He began turning his head around to look at her.

Her fingers were no longer touching him but it felt as though they were. "Commander," she said authoritatively.

He should be used to that look of hers by now, he analyzed, but he doubted he ever would. How does one get used to condescension on a full-time basis? At least that what it felt like. "If there's more to it, I'll see it through. Keep goin'..."

"The technique is concluded for this session." Unwittingly, she caught his eye and seemed to him, as far as he could tell, uncomfortable.

"That's it?" He regretted his sounding naive, but how else could he sound when he had neither clue nor a semblance of what she had been doing to him for the past…? He wondered what time it was.

"What I performed is sufficient at this time. I recommend another session, perhaps in a day or so." As she gazed upon him, as unfathomable as ever, he noticed a slight deepening of the greenish tint of her complexion. "It is *your* decision. No one is forcing you to submit to this treatment if you judge it to be of no benefit to you."

The imperious lift of her eyebrow was duly noted. (The jury's out for the time being), he assessed. (If anything, I got a decent massage out of it, at least.) Casually, Trip reached for his shirt, but his reply had none of his action's easygoing air. "No--no. No. If you don't mind, I don't. You've got magic fingers, Commander." His fingers were imprinted with a vivid signature of her delicate bones beneath her supple skin. He was sure that if he had pressed any harder, despite her urging him to do so, he could have snapped at least one of them. "I'm sure Phlox would want me to go this route since his elaborate scheme to get me here in the first place tipped his hand. Probably wants to save me from turnin' into a stone hypo' junkie."

"A stone hypo' junkie?" Her eyes never left him while he put his shirt on.

"Yeah. An irredeemable addict, hooked on his sedatives." Winking at her, he said, "We all wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"No, Commander, the doctor and I are of the opinion that natural ways and homeopathic methods of healing are best for sustaining optimal long-term health. Drugs certainly do have their various and sundry uses, but the given exists for becoming dependent upon them, both physically and psychologically."

He couldn't leave that opinion alone, not with the look of the wisdom of the ages hawking at him in her imposing eyes. "What would the doc say if I became hooked on...." His mind overruled his big mouth for once, and instead of saying, 'you,' he opted for, "these cozy little sessions of yours?" Training his needling expression, that didn't last long, upon her, he rose from the bed and made for the door. "'Night, Sub-commander. Thanks for the neuro..." He shrugged, and settled for, "Massage." After the door stood open and T'Pol was standing by the corner of the sleek mantle, looking impassive, but oddly enough a tad ruffled Trip thought, he rejoined, "I'll get back to ya 'bout the next one. See ya on the bridge tomorrow, and thanks again." Before he walked off, he ended by saying, "Nice shade of blue on ya. 'Night."

T'Pol neither blinked nor returned the word of parting. She turned away from the closing door, went to the low-burning meditation candle, and decisively blew it out.

End...(you should decide)

Continue to Part 2

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